


bargain

by BlackSclera



Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Implied/Referenced Torture, Unrequited Love, obligatory: it's 4 am and i dont write anything good but i continue to write anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:41:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27740176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackSclera/pseuds/BlackSclera
Summary: "She's waiting for you, isn't she? So don't make that face. I won't let them do anything to you."
Comments: 10
Kudos: 13





	bargain

“I like you.” Conan – _Kudo Shinichi_ \- says it so matter-of-factly that Kaito thinks he could legitimately fool a handful of the police during an investigation into thinking he’s still blurting his deductions and determining the evidences instead of uttering a confession. In fact, knowing him, it's entirely possible that Kudo might be treating it as something not all that different from his usual cases. He can understand why. This is still one kind of truth, after all.

Even if it is the truth of his... feelings which is honestly jarring to think about, for a lot of reasons.

It's not that Kaito _dislikes_ the detective; if anything, Kaito would go as far as to say it's the complete opposite. He likes his presence, so familiar now after how often they have accidentally crossed each other's paths inside and outside a heist or scene. Over time, the challenge he presents during his heists has grown to become less of an inconvenience and more a subject of his anticipation. These meetings too provide him with a mental reprieve - a sentiment that they both seem to share - and the help he continues to offer on the situation with his father's murderer was incredibly valuable.

But, and here Kaito has to wrestle his uncertainty from showing on his face, it's only just that.

An appreciation for an equal, and on the nights where sleep comes harder than it usually does and the cape feels too heavy on his shoulders, maybe even a friend.

Contrary to the dawning anxiety and trepidation building up in Kaito's chest, Kid doesn’t so much as twitch. Ever the imperturbable magician under the moonlight clad in an almost ethereal glow, he keeps one hand in his pocket while the other holds the brim of his hat.

He stares at Kudo- at the faint smile playing across his lips as he gazes at the city below his feet and the wistful look in his eyes. 

“Looking back, I have to admit it’s a little funny. Of all people, I had to find it out from Haibara. It made for a perfect blackmail material and she managed to get a few dozen favors out of me."

Kaito tries a few words on his tongue and mentally works his mouth - to get something out, to tell him he heard him, maybe, or that he doesn’t know what to say - and finds himself discarding them just as fast. There's nothing he could say that would sound right.

There was no room for anyone else. There shouldn't have been room for anyone, much less an internationally wanted thief like Kaito Kid whose real name Kudo doesn't even _know,_ because just like him, there was someone waiting for Kudo Shinichi to come back home.

 _I was under the impression that you were romantically involved,_ he tries, then immediately drops the thought. The topic of Mouri Ran was something Kid couldn't tread lightly on, the same way Kudo couldn't ask too much about Kaito and his motives despite having enough information to make a somewhat accurate guess.

 _Why me?_ Except even that comes across as too much of an accusation and a denial. 

_Why are you telling me this?_ But that question never guaranteed an answer. Kudo has made a habit of telling him things - deceptively small details that would make or break his heists; Kaito learns the hard way to _listen -_ and never bothers to explain himself. He expects him to understand the moment he is told, having full faith that he would catch on quick or at least quick enough to make split second decisions that would alter the course of his escapes.

But this isn't a heist. This isn't a murder scene. 

This is just a secret meeting between the two of them on some isolated rooftop in Tokyo.

Still, it seems as if the detective was expecting his silence and has chosen not to wait for a response. He pushes himself off the fence and turns to face him, that wretched – unfamiliar - smile never leaving as he walks towards his direction.

As Kudo draws nearer, Kaito begins to notice signs of severe exhaustion lining his young face and rumpling his appearance. A smudging of purple under his eyes, his posture just barely kept together, his lips pale and bones too sharp against his skin. The only thing that looked immaculate were his clothes and even they seemed to have been winkled with movement. The more he stares, the more he realizes that it looks like it’s taking everything out of Kudo to keep himself standing and staring up at him.

_When he’d walked, he was dragging his feet too, wasn’t he?_

Kaito immediately straightens inwardly, alarms blaring in his head. At that very same moment, something changes in Kudo. 

For someone who isn't tall enough to come up past Kaito’s waist, the detective somehow manages to stare down at him as he pulls a gun too big for his hand out of the pocket he purposely kept at Kid's blind spot in an uncomfortably practiced motion. If Kaito didn’t know him at all, he would have flinched (at best) or felt inclined to reflexively retaliate (at worst).

But he _does_ know him, so Kaito doesn’t move away.

“…What are you doing?” Kudo asks after a strained moment of silence as Kid resolutely stood his ground without so much as a single movement. His eyes are dark, intense in a way that Kid has never seen before, and his voice comes out a near growl despite the high pitch of his voice. “I have a gun pointed at you. Will you just continue to stand there without a care for your life?"

Kid doesn’t lose his grin. “Is that gun even loaded, Meitantei?” he asks lightly. 

“It is.” He isn't lying. As if to prove it, he unlocks the safety and lets his finger rest lightly on the trigger. “I’ll ask again, Kaito Kid: _what are you doing?_ It's just the two of us here. There's no reason for you to have reservations about defending yourself against a child, is there?"

His hands and voice are steady but the look in his eyes is desperate. Panicked. 

Something had happened. In the space of time it took for them to meet, perhaps during the three coincidental absences of the detective in the past two months- or worse, way before that - without Kaito knowing, something had happened to the detective and he didn’t say a thing.

“You know, Meitantei." He tries for jovial and he doesn’t miss, but it doesn’t fully hit its mark either. He thinks back to his earlier confession and the blatant emphasis on them being alone and the way Kudo referred to himself as a child. They aren't as alone as he thought they initially were. "You sure do have quite an interesting way of showing people you like them."

Kudo’s lips twist, choosing to ignore the offhand remark as he sharply gestures at his suit instead. “Is the gun that you carry around during your heists just for show? Or is it simply that you want to get yourself killed?"

Kid’s tone is teasing. Kaito is anything but. “If I'm being honest, I don't want to hear that from you."

“This isn’t about me.”

He takes the time to intently scrutinize Kudo’s body in the following silence, noticing a hint of discoloration – too pale for it to be his natural skin tone - peeking over the collar of his shirt.

(Inanely, all that some part of Kaito can think about is how much he wants to grab Kudo by the shoulders and scream at him. _How long? For how long have you been hiding this?_ )

In front of him, Kudo shakily exhales. Faintly, barely there and easy to miss had Kaito not been looking, something blinks red. Dread fills him, dousing him ice cold as the pieces began to click and fall together in his head.

“This is your last chance, Kid,” he whispers.

To take his card gun out. To use a smoke bomb or any of his tricks. To use his glider. Hell, to tackle Kudo before making his escape, no matter how inelegant.

Kid doesn’t.

Instead, Kaito wordlessly kneels in front of him, his poker face holding firmly although he feels the complete opposite of calm. He reaches out to press the end of the gun to his chest, the steel unmistakably cold through the padding of his gloves, voice almost tender as he finally sees the metal adorning the tiny detective’s neck. It’s difficult to make out from a distance but this close, it couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. 

A tracking device cleverly weaved into his bow, and above his collar, a coat of flaking make-up that concealed fresh injuries that spread to the corner of his lip and the expanse of his cheek. Kaito has never seen it before, and the make-up is telling all on its own. This is a recent development, one that Kaito wasn’t privy to.

Kudo missed three heists, each with an apology addressed hours prior. Kaito didn’t think much of it; Kudo suddenly missing or behaving strangely would certainly garner attention (be it of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department, the FBI, the tiny scientist, or the Mouri's) so he hadn’t been particularly concerned when he cancelled on their meetings. It didn’t help that Kudo continued to correspond with him in the two months he was unable to accept his invitation. 

Thinking now, however, it’s inconceivable but not impossible; if someone had enough leverage on Edogawa Conan, he would most certainly strive to keep it all to himself and find a way to solve it alone. Kaito knows this. Nearly _anyone_ who is familiar with Kudo Shinichi would. It was his brand of insanity, just as Kaito had his own.

“What did they have?” Kaito asks, little to no amount of modulation twisting the sound of his voice as fear pierces through his poker face. _What did they threaten you with? What was so important that you couldn’t approach anyone from the police?_

Kudo only smiles at him. 

There are not very many things that make Kudo’s list of being too important or delicate of a matter to bullheadedly present to the police. The matter with the Black Organization is one. Haibara Ai is another.

And the last one that Kaito can think of-

_I like you._

“…You’re too kind for your own good, Meitantei,” Kid says softly.

“And you’re an idiot.” They stare at the gun in his hands and the way Kid willingly let it dig a little deeper into his chest. “You’re making a mistake.”

“I don’t think I would call trusting you a mistake.” _Not after what you've done._

There is movement behind the detective, a blur barely perceptible, and then the gleam of a sniper’s scope. Kaito feels more than he sees Kudo preparing to pull the trigger through the slight movement of the gun in his grip.

“Neither can I,” Kudo admits. “I’m sorry, Kid."

"About your confession, I'm-"

"It's okay." The detective tilts his head upwards, his smile a little more real though still strained. Four red lines stretch against the side of his neck, a hint of purple blue following its trail. _Scratch marks and bruises like he's been strangled,_ Kaito thinks, bile rising in his throat and horror gripping his chest. Kudo is no child but he has the body of one and children- they break easily. Unlike Kaito, his bones are weaker. He bruises easier. Whatever he has done, it couldn't have been easy. "You don't have to. It's okay, Kid. I know. She's waiting for you, isn't she?"

Kudo's eyes close as his smile widens. 

"So don't make that face. I won't let them do anything to you."

Before he could say anything else, the gun recoils in their hands as Kudo pulls the trigger. Kaito slumps, the impact making his back bow, a familiar, painful sort of warmth soaking through the front of his clothes. He feels Kudo tremble against him, buckling against the additional weight, his small hand shaking as it grips the lapel of his suit.

"With this, I don't owe you anything anymore."

.

.

.

.

"My, my, I didn't think you'd actually go through with it, tiny detective!" A man's voice rings out shrilly from the back of the door leading to the rooftop. Shinichi involuntarily freezes, his breathing turning shallow in reflexive fear of the sound after weeks of associating it with pain and punishment. Still, he manages to meet the man's eyes in the dark as he pushes the thief's body off of him, anger rolling off of him in waves. He tightens his grip on his gun warningly.

"Now, don't look at me like that. My men told me Kuroba Kaito was seen sleeping peacefully in his home while you exacted this wonderfully dramatic scene!"

Shinichi wipes at his face, unconsciously leaving a thick streak of red from where Kid bled through. "You will keep the end of your deal, won't you?" 

The man's expression turns sinister as he lowers his head in an extravagant bow.

"Of course."

( _Shinichi’s head jerks upwards as a big hand pulls at his hair. His whole body hurts. He can’t breathe right through his nose and he feels a steady, warm stream pouring from his temple and down the stab wound from his side. Forced at this angle, he can only breathe through a few forced wheezes and gasps._

_“Now what, tiny detective? Where's that liveliness you had in you earlier hm?” The man smells strongly of sweat and expensive cologne, lips wobbling like he's barely holding back a laugh at the feeble glare Shinichi directs at him. “Will you call for help? You know you can. It would be easy, wouldn’t it? Just scream or use one of those little toys of yours to call the police.”_

_He is dragged higher still and he feels several hairs being ripped from his scalp from how tight his hold is. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t lift a finger, numbness – either from fear or shock – paralyzing his limbs. The skin of his neck stings from where one of them had scratched him as they choked him to keep him quiet._

_The man fakes a contemplative expression, mimicking the way he would put a hand under his chin as he deduced a case._

_“Though if you do that… we’d have no choice but to kill Kaito Kid, right?_ _…Or should I say, Kuroba Kaito? That's his name, isn't it?”_

_“D-don’-“ Shinichi gasps, chokes, saliva and blood dripping down his chin as he defiantly fights against the man’s brutal grip. Urgency bleeds through the fog of pain. On this alone, it doesn't matter if they break something. He can't let them touch him. “Do..n’t involve… ci-civilians- did… d-did nothi…ng-“_

_“Oh my, but that’s no good, tiny detective!” Dropping Shinichi abruptly to a boneless heap, delighting in the sight of the child’s crumpled form, the man follows him to a crouch and tilts his head in faux childish curiosity. “How else could we confirm that he isn’t that bad, bad thief?"_

_He brightens up suddenly as his eyes land on the holster hidden in his suit._

_"Ah! This friendly old man knows.”_

_Retrieving his gun, he dangles it in front of Shinichi’s face playfully. A weapon, a way out of this hellhole that Shinichi can’t take advantage of because trying to do anything would get Kaito immediately killed. He thought he'd known hell after the Apotoxin. He thought he'd seen it in his reflection; a mere child trying to take down murderers with hundreds of lives on their names._

_"I am no God but surely, the life of a criminal must weigh less than that of an innocent civilian, yes?"_

_Shinichi's eyes widen. The man laughs and laughs._

_"Kill Kaito Kid, tiny detective. If Kuroba Kaito survives, I promise I won't do anything to him. We can call it an equivalent exchange of sorts; the death of a thief for the protection of an innocent. What do you say?"_ _)_

.

.

.

.

Shinichi would be a fool to think that a murderer would keep his word. 

**Author's Note:**

> it was either this or me drawing kaito in leather pants. the leather pants won. i still wrote this regardless


End file.
